And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. “Why should it matter?” he said. . " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. There was no way to warn her of his presence without startling her. She would be extraordinarily interesting as a metaphysical study. His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated.
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